


The Naughty Decepticon and Rodimus Prime

by hightechzombie



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: BDSM, Consensual Kink, Electrocution, M/M, Sexual Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 12:23:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4221594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hightechzombie/pseuds/hightechzombie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodimus just wanted to be called Rodimus Prime during sex, nothing more. But Drift decided, that things needed to be taken much further.</p>
<p>After all, if you do something, you gotta do it right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Naughty Decepticon and Rodimus Prime

Rodimus squirmed on the throne. One leg swinging over the armrest, the other touching the ground, seemed like a good position at first. It both captured the majestic grace and coolness of someone such as amazing Rodimus Prime, but after the long wait his joints were beginning to complain.

The squirming immediately stopped when the prisoner walked in. Rodimus Prime gathered his cool and regarded the figure. Drift was avoiding his gaze, his dejected head and hunched posture signalling a defeated man.

“Prisoner,” announced Rodimus Prime, “you are standing before the great Rodimus Prime. Your crimes are many and the fame of your exploits…”

Drift coughed delicately.

“What is it?” snapped Rodimus.

“Sorry, the restraints got undone. Again. Could you…?”

“Just come over here,” growled Rodimus.

Drift walked up and turned around to present Rodimus the hands behind his back. Rodimus fixed the shackles and shut them with a loud clasp. The hum of the device told him that the restraints were the real thing, military grade.

“Where did you get these?” asked Rodimus. “Also, is this the reason why you made me wait for so long? Next time, just let me get some old fashioned cables and…”

“If we’re doing this, then let’s do it right,” insisted Drift. For someone usually so malleable, he sure was getting worked up about the details.

Rodimus shrugged and sprawled out on the throne again. The throne, by the way, was fantastic work. Drift has adorned the back of the chair with flames and painted it golden and red. It looked really impressive for something made out of cheap low-quality metal.

Drift went back to his position and assumed the facial expression seen before - dejected, ashamed, but also defiant. Well, not for much longer.

“Prisoner, you stand before Rodimus Prime, the glorious and valiant leader of the Autobots. Do you realize the honor that you are given?”

“Should I?” snarked the captured Decepticon.

Rodimus sighed with the majestic disappointment befitting a Prime.

“You are well known, Deadlock. The soldiers speak of your cunning and your battle prowess, innocent victims whisper of your cruelty and the dead can only…” Rodimus noticed that Drift tensed. Not in a good way. The bad way, when Drift looked as if he was trying his best not to flinch when hearing a distasteful Decepticon joke.

“... and you are well-known to us,” awkwardly concluded Rodimus and quickly moved on. “Yet you are in luck, for the generosity and kindness of a Prime knows no bounds. The Light of Primus touches all creations and his mercy extends to even one such as yourself.”

“Will you accept the Light’s embrace and bend your knee before the mighty Rodimus Prime?”

“Never,” smirked Drift, but something flashed in his eyes. A vulnerability, something hungry and begging for to be let in.

Rodimus almost averted his eyes. He knew that Drift was good, but he did not expect such acting skill.

“I offer you again: will you kneel before me and taste of my generous mercy?”

“Never,” whispered Drift.

“I ask for the third and last time…” quietly said Rodimus, “Will you bend your knee and find salvation? Or will you persist in your aimless stumbling through darkness, quenching spark after spark and finding nothing? Will you forever be alone or will you join my side in glory?”

Rodimus voice had gradually grown louder and louder, and now he let it fall back to a whisper:

“The Light of the Matrix is merciful. But me, Rodimus Prime, I am still far from embodying that aspect of Light. To let you go, is to kill thousands of innocents through your hand. I will destroy you rather than let that happen, and so, Deadlock, you have a choice…”

“Become Light or perish,” said Rodimus slowly. “Kneel before me.”

Drift dropped to the knees as if they gave in on their own. His fans were whirring as if they were working at maximum. An actor could not fake such a reaction… or could he?

“Deadlock, I give you a chance to confess. Your crimes weigh heavy, but you have the chance to let the Light guide you back home. Let me hear the tale of your spark.”

Drift breathed in and raised his head to meet Rodimus’ gaze. He looked tired, yet also desperately eager to please.

“I plead guilty to all crimes and beg not for mercy, but for punishment. I had been suffering long, yet saw no way out for I saw only darkness. I stumbled in that battle not due exhaustion, but because I finally gave in. I wanted to surrender and be…”

Rodimus wasn’t really listening. Intently watching Drift’s face, Rodimus tried to imprint Drift’s expression to his memory forever. Having never judged another Autobot or Decepticon, Rodimus could only guess whether the reality felt as good as it did right now. To have the power of gazing into somebody’s spark, to pass judgement and inspire the judged to become better… Rodimus wanted such power desperately.

But there was more than one kind of pleasure, especially during playtime. Rodimus flicked open the valve panel and expanded his spike. He kept watching Drift, while lazily stroking his spike.

Drift was too preoccupied with verbally flagellating himself to notice anything. Only a few minutes later, when Drift looked up again to summon the Light as his witness, did Drift’s gaze wander over Rodimus’ crotch. Drift didn’t stutter, but he suddenly lost the thread of thought and his eyes went blank. He always had that expression when he was horny.

Rodimus almost grinned, but forced his face to stay impassive. Drift stumbled for a few seconds, but eventually returned to his begging. When Drift paused in between his passionate tirades, Rodimus cut in:

“But do you mean it, Deadlock? Or is this another of your infamous ruses? How can I know you speak the truth now, after all you’ve done?”

“I will do anything to prove it,” Drift’s eyes were locked on Rodimus’ spike. Now Rodimus really couldn’t help but smirk.

There was a pause.

“You remember the script, right?” asked Drift.

“Of course I remember it! I wrote it after all!” snapped Rodimus. He hesitated, then asked: “But are you sure we want to use the shockers?”

Drift flashed a smile.

“Yes, we do. If we’re doing this, then…”

“... we gotta do it right,” finished Rodimus with a sour expression. “Still...

“It will be fine. I assure you it is perfectly safe, I even tried it myself.”

Rodimus sighed and mumbled: “Fine.” He looked around.

“Where is that thing again? To activate the shockers?”

“The button is under the right armrest,” patiently explained Drift. “Yes, right ther-”

Drift’s words were cut off by a scream. Rodimus almost let go off the button, but caught himself in time. Drift immediately bit off his scream and began silently convulsing in the floor. Rodimus counted until five before letting go the button.

“Do you still claim to speak the truth?”

“I do,” said Drift hoarsely.

Rodimus pressed the button again, but shorter this time. He didn’t enjoy watching Drift twitch like that.

“This pain is merely of a fraction of what your victims felt,” proclaimed Rodimus Prime. “It is a lesson that you should cherish, for it is the seed from which springs compassion.”

Rodimus let his fingers wander to back to the spike and a cold, anticipating smile appeared.

“You say ‘anything’, Deadlock, but do you mean it? Will you discard your pride to commiserate your initiation? Would you truly do anything for your Prime?”

“I would, oh Rodimus Prime,” said Drift. “Please let me prove it.”

Rodimus let his gaze wander over Drift, as if evaluating his earnesty.

“You may approach the throne,” said Rodimus with lazy arrogance.

A loud thud was heard behind Rodimus. A look confirmed that one of the flames has fallen off. Rodimus turned back to Drift just in time to see him fail to suppress a smile.

Rodimus glowered, but said nothing. Primus knows, he could have said “Laugh it up, Drift, this throne was you job and you fragged it. Your slag throne is not even _worthy_ to be in the presence of my ass”, but he didn’t.

“Get over here, prisoner,” said Rodimus sharply.

Drift quickly complied. Wearing a serious expression again, Drift was standing on his knees before Rodimus. The air from Drift’s exhaust valves came up hot on Rodimus’ spike.

Rodimus was about to gloat, but Drift went ahead and licked the spike, cutting Rodimus’ breath short. Then Drift did it again, this time slow and meticulously tracing his tongue from the base to the tip of the spike.

Finally, Drift halted and pitifully raised his gaze.

“Oh Rodimus Prime, I am not worthy…”

This was the reason why Rodimus loved Drift. The bot always knew what Rodimus wanted to hear.

“I decide whether you are worthy or not,” snarled Rodimus. “Pleasure your Prime as I command you to.”

Drift eagerly took up the spike in his mouth and began sucking joyfully. Rodimus placed his hand on Drift’s head, subtly guiding him.

By now, Rodimus felt like he knew the insides of Drift’s mouth better than his own. There was a rough spot in Drift’s upper temple that rubbed especially hard against his spike. Deeper down the throat, there was that one glowing spot that always made Rodimus feel as if he dipped his spike into hot energon. 

Before Drift, Rodimus had never taken time to thoroughly explore the body of another bot. Yes, he had fragged several times, but if Rodimus was perfectly honest with himself, it was more about looking good than enjoying himself. Pleasure had always been a second priority.

But it was different with Drift. Their needs aligned very well. Drift did not complain, did not criticize and especially didn’t gossip about what the good old captain was like in bed. In fact, Drift immediately jumped on board when Rodimus wanted to be called Rodimus Prime during fragging. 

Drift was making muffled, pleasured noises, but as much as Rodimus was enjoyed that, it was time to mix up things a little. Rodimus jerked back Drift’s head and stared coldly at him.

“Do not think it will be as easy as that. To earn forgiveness it takes all that you have got. You need to expose your innermost parts... do you understand me?”

“Yes,” mouthed Drift. Sticky fluid was glistening on his lips and streaming down the chin. Rodimus fought the urge to lick it clean. Instead, he stood up from the throne, and threw Drift against it.

Drift was sprawled on the seat, too overcome with pleasure to react in any meaningful way. Rodimus lifted the bot by the back of his neck and put Drift’s leg on the armrest. Now Drift’s forehead was pressed against the back of the throne, his legs spread wide and crotch leaking sticky fluid. Rodimus impatiently opened the valve plate and forced his fingers inside.

The way Drift shuddered made Rodimus smile. He rubbed his fingers a bit against the entrance and tugged at Drift’s spike, making it pressurize faster than it was comfortable. Drift struggled to keep his balance, holding on to the throne with both hands. His fans were whirring like mad and Rodimus wasn’t much better either.

Rodimus placed a hand on Drift’s hip and stroked his own spike with the other.

“Now,” purred Rodimus, “what do good Autobots say to get something they don’t deserve..?”

“Please, Rodimus Prime,” moaned Drift, “please frag me. I beg you to frag me so hard I can’t stand. I want to…”

Rodimus rammed in the spike mid-word. Drift sharply exhaled and began whimpering with pain and pleasure. Drift’s ridges took time to adjust to the hard thrusts, but as sticky fluid slowly covered the spike and Rodimus found his rhythm, the ridges retreated smoothly upon the repeated entry.

Drift was rocking under the hip thrusts and making little sounds. Rodimus did not need to see his partner’s face to know what it was looking like. Dim eye lights and slack jaw, ignorant of anything but his own pleasure.

Rodimus put a hand on Drift’s shoulder and kneaded the joints near the neck. The bot leaned his head towards the touch and Rodimus slowly traced Drift’s cheek with his thumb. The sound of their breaths, the creaking of joints and metallic thumps marked the peaceful moment.

Actually, it was too peaceful. More fire was needed. Rodimus removed the hand from Drift’s hip and placed it under the armrest.

Drift jerked violently and locked jaws with a loud clang, losing control of his body. Unexpectedly, the electric current also caught on with Rodimus. It was… unpleasant, yet Rodimus endured it for a few more moments before letting go the button.

Drift stopped convulsing and inhaled loudly. Rodimus belatedly understood, that the electrical charge he felt was significantly weaker than Drift’s. It did not incapacitate him as it did for Drift, and never crossed the threshold that would make it truly painful.

Rodimus had stopped thrusting for a while, but Drift was energetically moving his hips to make up for that. It seems he took the shock for a wordless reprisal of his passivity. Rodimus stretched out the hand to brush Drift’s cheek. Drift looked back questioningly and rubbed his cheek against the knuckles of Rodimus’ hand.

Alright, everything was fine. Rodimus forced his spike inside so hard, Drift almost fell off the throne.

They kept going like this for a while, grunting and moaning and doing other noises that Rodimus had no words for. The throne was shaking violently. Only two flames were left, clinging to the back of the throne. Rodimus doubted the thing would survive the session.

Rodimus used the shockers a few more times when Drift was getting too slow or distracted, which energized him back into action. Still, there was a limit on what a body could take. Rodimus felt that his stamina was waning, and that he was coming closer and closer to overload.

Pulling out his spike and grabbing Drift by the collar, Rodimus took a step back.  


“Now, prisoner, you will do most of the work. Satisfy me.”

Rodimus slumped into the throne and raised a brow. Drift got the memo and climbed onto his lap. It took some work to fit them inside the cramped chair. Rodimus had to lift Drift’s legs over the armrests to be able put the spike back into Drift’s valve.

As promised, Drift was riding Rodimus and doing most of the work. Rodimus let his hands wander over Drift’s body. The vibrating of the engine and the overheated chestplates told Rodimus that Drift was getting close to overload as well.

“What do you think, Deadlock?” whispered Rodimus. “Is this better? Is this what you wanted?”

“Yes,” gasped Drift. “Yes, it is, Rodimus Prime. I thank you. I love… I beg you...”

Drift was losing coherence. Rodimus rammed in extra hard to make this moment more memorable, as Drift released a corrupted, crackling scream of pleasure. The overload clouded Drift’s eyes. The shudder of his entire body was felt by Rodimus as if it was his own.

It was rare for Drift to overload before Rodimus did, and Rodimus paid attention to the way Drift trembled and struggled to come back to the real world. An unfamiliar sight of vulnerability.

Rodimus began thrusting again, while Drift lay limply in his arms. There was no reason to drag out his own overload. While the mechanic movements occupied his body, Rodimus thought about what Drift said. “I love…” That might have been “I love how you frag” or it might have been something else.

Rodimus didn’t think he loved Drift. At least, not the way Chromedome loved Rewind. Did Optimus Prime ever love anybody? Rodimus didn’t think so. But regardless, what did it matter? Love or not, Rodimus wanted Drift to stay with him forever.

A surge of energy overcame Rodimus. He whispered: “Till all are one” just before the overload made him blind and deaf to the world.

When Rodimus came back online, the first things that came into focus was Drift’s face. Rodimus smiled weakly. Drift smiled back.

They sat in the silence for a while. Then Rodimus cleared his throat and asked:

“So, how was I?”

Drift’s bright smile belied his exhaustion.

“Wonderful! I think it worked out really great, but some things could be improved. But hey, it was our first try!”

“Right,” murmured Rodimus.

“But, uhm…” Drift hesitated. “There is just one thing. Could you never call me Deadlock ever again?”

“You were fine with it when you read the script,” protested Rodimus.

“Yeah, I was. But just… don’t like it out loud. Doesn’t feel good.”

“Sure, Drift.” Rodimus failed to suppress a yawn. “Won’t do it again. Easier to call you Drift anyway.”

Drift mumbled something affirming and put his head on Rodimus’ shoulder. Rodimus pulled Drift’s body closer, enjoying the closeness. They never… well, never cuddled outside of sex. That’s just how it was. Rodimus always liked it, though.

“Rod,” said Drift, “I hate to interrupt, but I got a meeting with Chromedome soon. You know why. I really need to get going, so could you perhaps clean up this-”

Rodimus jumped up as if somebody shocked him with electricity.

“Oh right!” cheerfully said Rodimus after dumping Drift into the chair. “Gotta go too! Got an appointment of my own… with Ultra Magnus, you know! See you tomorrow! Bye Drift!”

With a last bright smile and two thumbs up, Rodimus vanished behind the door frame.

Drift sighed. Rodimus never cleaned up after fragging. It was always Drift’s job… as was everything else.

Surveying the room, Drift decided the clean up wasn’t gonna take that long after all, and what’s the point in complaining anyway. Gotta pick up the shackles though, can’t let that fall into random hands. Drift smiled looking at his wrists. Good to know that Drift was still as good at getting rid of restraints as he used to. Rodimus probably didn’t even notice that stunt.

Before standing up and getting to work, Drift succumbed to temptation. He traced his fingers through the sticky fluid on the seat and slowly licked them clean.

Gotta admit that for all of Rodimus’ flaws, he had hundred qualities more to make it up for.


End file.
